Submitting

Glance

"You are seriously asking that?' Perhaps Dimitri's question was not meant to be heard by me. It was addressed more to himself than to me, but I was still on an adrenaline rush, and I was not going to drop any chance to express my opinions. This kind of fuelled energy came to me after a long time in the form of fiery rage and needless to say, it was a lot easier to carry than the awful heaviness.

This adrenaline rush, excitement at the sheerest spark of hope was shocking to me. It explained how puny us humans are, who get swayed so easily if a prospect of something favourable comes up. And I was no different.

Dimitri shut the door behind him as quietly as he could and walked away with squeaking floorboards in his wake. A clear indication that the path was clear but too risky to tread on at the moment. All the liars were still awake and aware. I needed them to be asleep so that I could stealthily walk away from here without being caught. At least he was not suspicious of the several possibilities that raced through my head. A plan to master the escape that I was about to perform.

My heart had almost stopped when I felt that draft of cold, biting wind coming from the hallway downstairs. I almost thought that I was imagining it because these people never crack a window open in this house and that is not because of the deathly cold outside but to ensure that there is no possible opportunity for me to escape. To trap me inside like a puny little animal, a pet of theirs with whom they can play as much as they liked.

A lifeless and immobile doll in a doll house.

I took a deep breath and looked down at myself. More specifically at my feet which triggered nothing but fear. What if I am unable to move? I haven't walked in a very long time, and Dimitri has been the one who carried me everywhere since the time I had been bedridden. Funny how mental contusions can cripple you physically just as much as any bodily injuries. Perhaps more.

But now, I had to move.

I took a deep breath and looked down at my feet. They taunted me, or rather the foresight of failure that I had. Of course, I always assumed that the worst is always bound to happen before it has happened already, but that's only because my past experiences taught and treated me so. This first step, the first try, is always the hardest, with failure echoing in my mind endlessly.

I took a deep breath again, as if that would somehow bring back the days when I was able to move at least and walk. And I closed my eyes, too afraid to look at the failed attempt which it was going to be.

Thus, I was proved right. Just like always, I didn't succeed. What was worse, was that I couldn't cry either. No matter how much I twisted my face at the agony of the failure, all I felt was numb at this cruel situation I was posed. Perhaps my best bet at freedom, and I can't even grab it all because I already lost mentally.

The fear of failure.

Anxiety was still rampant in me as it got further triggered by the present situation and soon my breath was out of my control. So was my raging heartbeat as it thumped against my rib cage, trying to break free, escape, much like I was. It did the trick though as I stumbled out of the wheelchair and dropped down on all fours. Tears blurred my eyes, blinding my senses further as I struggled to keep my head above water.

Water.

I needed water. The only thing that helped me breathe again. A trick that always worked, and quickly. A cure that never failed to help me out since my childhood.

With a foggy vision, I guided myself towards the bedside table and grabbed the plastic bottle, unwinding the cap in a millisecond and chugging the water in greedy gulps until the panic attack was gone for good. And like a charm, it all worked out.

It took some time, a moment, an hour or two as I sat there and looked outside the window with a blank mind. The night was awake with snow still pelting slowly, almost as if in slow motion, as the moon shined in its mightiest glow. No wind, no other movement. Still and quiet. Just like the rest of the house. Such silence was so deafening that time seemed to be frozen still or just like outside, slow. It was an indication enough for me to confirm the beginning of my plan.

I got up slowly, still unsure of my footing as pins and needles soon dug its nails in my feet but a few steps later, by the time I reached the door, it tuned down to a dull throb. Anticipation didn't let me ponder on it for long or make me consider taking some supplies or anything that could be useful in my endeavour. I could not wait to be out of this hellhole, a prison that had be trapped for too long but no more now.

The chilled doorknob underneath my palm twisted easily, and I only realized then that it could have been left locked by Dimitri, but unfortunately for him, it was not. All of this was too good to be true, but it was not the time to doubt the lady of luck as I stepped outside of the room and into the hallway. The first alarm sounded of underneath my feet as the floorboards squeaked as they always do. Groaning, every time anybody walked on them.

There was nothing that I could do anything about them. No amount of precaution could help me avoid them. The only thing that I could do though was pray to everything considered holy and almighty out there so that I don't get caught just because Dimitri and Ivan decided it would be nice to not fix the house before they decided to bring me and Liza here.

The stairs were a few feet away and the walk there was so devilishly dangerous. A pace, not too hurried, not too unhurried. Normal had to do it because quick would make too much noise all at once, and slow would only drag the process out. Perhaps they won't notice at all, and I won't get caught before I even got to have a glance at my freedom.